


let me take your coat (and this weight off of your shoulders)

by bacondoughnut



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Chicken Soup, Comfort, Common Cold, Fluff and Angst, Loneliness, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Past Drug Addiction, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Malcolm Bright, Sickfic, Trust, Trust Issues, dani and mal said workaholic solidarity, mostly comfort, or pre-romantic cuddling it's open to interpretation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:54:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29013141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bacondoughnut/pseuds/bacondoughnut
Summary: "So what's so important about this case? Why can't you take a sick day?""Right, because you take so many sick days," Dani challenges, adjacent to defensively."I need the distraction, from up here," he reminds her, tapping his left temple. He turns back to retrieve the box of chamomile then, saying pointedly, "But you're, empirically speaking, lightyears more stable than me."In which Dani catches a cold and it's Malcolm's turn to give her a ride home.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	let me take your coat (and this weight off of your shoulders)

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from 'two' by sleeping at least

He's got to admit, it's a little strange seeing this conversation from the outside perspective for once.

"You're going home, that's not a suggestion," Gil says, with that familiar sort of weary firmness he has. "We can handle the case. You need to rest."

"I'm not even that sick, boss." A rebuttal which might be more compelling if Dani's voice weren't so congested when she delivered it.

Gil provides a skeptical hum as he sits back in his chair. He sends a look over at Malcolm, sitting at Dani's side, a silent suggestion that he back him up on this. Not that Gil needs backup.

And since Gil doesn't need really need his help, Malcolm takes the calculated route of holding his tongue. He agrees one hundred percent, Dani's health is more important than the case. They'll be able to handle things without her while she's home recuperating. Arguing as much out loud, however, would be a little hypocritical on his part.

He's self aware enough to know it, and even if he weren't, Dani manages to convey as much with the raise of a single eyebrow.

Gil sighs and shakes his head. It's with a faint relief that Malcolm knows she's lost an instant before Gil delivers the recumbentibus, "Can you give me another reason I hear you're puking at crime scenes? I'm pretty sure you're not squeamish."

In her defense, she technically only threw up outside of a crime scene. Once. And the body really smelled awful. Not her fault.

Still, if she hadn't left quick enough it could've contaminated evidence. Which is likely the reason she doesn't even bother arguing the semantics, just slumps lower in the chair with a muffled groan. Nudging Malcolm's elbow with her own, she grouses, "You could back me up a little."

"I could," Malcolm says thoughtfully. She mirrors his nod with a less than hopeful look in her eye, and he shrugs and adds, "And if I wasn't the one holding your hair back at the scene, I would."

"Traitor."

"Now that's settled," Gil says, clapping his hands as if they've all three come to an agreement. In their own way they sort of have. He pushes his chair out and stands, gesturing towards the door for the both of them and saying, "Bright's going to escort you home."

Malcolm's already getting up to walk her out, but Dani remains stubborn even after she's lost.

"Okay, I'm really not that sick."

She very well might not be, but they did catch her dozing off in the conference room before their briefing this morning. If she's feeling that fatigued from whatever bug she's caught, it's probably not safe to drive. In this city, not safe to take a taxi by yourself either. Maybe that's paranoia, but it's Gil, he's protective.

"Powell, I'm not gonna stop worrying about you. This'll be easier for everyone if you just let me."

"You can't fight him on that one," Malcolm says. "Trust me, I've tried."

Dani rolls her eyes, but she accepts a tissue from the box Gil holds out for her. She turns away to blow her nose, then sighs and says, "Alright, fine."

Gil gives a small smile. "Thank you."

"But you can just send me with a uni," she argues from her seat. "You don't have to punish Bright because I got sick."

"Oh, I don't mind."

She glances up at him with a minute, calculating frown. Says, "But the case-"

"-Will still be here," Malcolm interrupts as he retrieves her coat from the rack, "When I get back. Besides, it's about time I returned the favor."

Dani squints at him, almost suspicious. Then she huffs and rises from the seat, shaking her head and mumbling a sarcastic remark about etiquette classes paying off when he holds her coat for her to slip her arms through the sleeves. Gil's executive order that she take it easy and feel better soon follows them through the door out his office.

They pass by JT on the way out and let him know what's happening.

Out on the steps of the precinct, Malcolm hails a cab to get Dani home in. As they climb into the backseat, she gathers her coat tighter around herself and the driver asks, "Where to?"

As Dani rattles off her address, Malcolm takes out his phone to shoot Ainsley a quick question over text.

* * *

Dani's apartment is, unsurprisingly, not very far from the precinct.

Malcolm walks her up the stairs; because it's four flights, and she's tired, and he wants to see to it that she makes it to her front door safely. Alright, so maybe Gil's not the only one who's protective. Naturally, Dani doesn't complain about the stairs, but she's clearly not feeling as up for a case as she claims either. Tackling bad guys probably isn't the best idea when tackling the stairwell seems daunting. But they make it to her door and she sniffles as she digs for her keys in her pocket.

When she wordlessly stumbles into her apartment, Malcolm can't tell whether the door she leaves open in her wake is a silent invitation or fatigued forgetfulness. He doesn't want to push or overstay his welcome. He also knows _he_ always hates being alone when he's sick, even if he'd never admit to it.

"I, uh," Malcolm says, hovering by the doorway uncertainly. "I ordered you some chicken soup. From the spot Ainsley likes." She has better taste than he does.

"Mph," Dani answers eloquently, collapsing gracefully onto her couch.

He finally steps inside when her eyes light on the throw blanket over the back of an armchair, crossing the room to pass it to her before she has to get up. She mutters her thanks as she sheds her coat, draping it carelessly over the back of the couch.

"I know home cooked is more traditional for comfort foods," he says, stepping back a little awkwardly. Then, with a self-deprecating chuckle, "But seeing as we're trying to make your stomach feel better, we should probably keep you as far from my cooking as possible."

It wins a hint of a smile as she tucks her feet up on the cushion beneath her. "I appreciate it."

"Yeah," he nods. "Can I get you anything else?"

She scoffs at him, but it's not a direct dismissal of the offer, so he waits.

Obviously he knows it's nothing more than a common cold. If Dani were to tell him she's okay and prefers to be on her own, he could leave knowing she'll be just fine. But she's been there for him through a lot worse than this, and if he can make her more comfortable while she's not feeling well he'll do it. It's the least he can do, after all.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised, you being such a mother hen," she says conversationally. "Seeing as I've actually met your mother."

"Hey," he says, placing a hand over his heart in mock indignation. "Do you see me hiring any Russian nurses to keep you on lockdown?"

She sniffles. "Not yet."

"Well, if it's on the table..." Malcolm jokes, earning a stifled laugh.

"It's so not," she says under her breath, shaking her head. When she gestures towards the bookshelf across the room with a small nod, Malcolm wordlessly heads to retrieve the tissue box sitting there. As he places it on the coffee table more within reach, Dani hums and says, "I guess if you're offering, I wouldn't object to some tea."

In truth, he's probably more grateful to be given something he can do for her than she is having him do it. "You got it," he says, already starting for her kitchen. "What kind?"

Dani blows her nose before clearing her throat, saying, "Excuse me, sorry...Chamomile? It's in the cupboard, top left."

"Chamomile," Malcolm repeats to himself, opening the cupboard and scanning the shelf for a box.

Her cupboards are neat. This has as much to do with Dani being organized as it does the fact there's not enough present to create a mess. The shelves aren't quite as barren as his own, but they're not particularly well stocked either. Why would they be? She spends all her time at the precinct or in the field, saving little time or energy for cooking. Hers is a steady diet of takeout and the occasional ready-to-eat salad or wrap.

It suggests a partial answer before Malcolm even asks, "So what's so important about this case? Why can't you take a sick day?"

"Right, because you take so many sick days," Dani challenges, adjacent to defensively.

"I need the distraction, from up here," he reminds her, tapping his left temple. He turns back to retrieve the box of chamomile then, saying pointedly, "But you're, empirically speaking, lightyears more stable than me."

Which is, in the interest of accuracy, a phenomenally low bar.

"Yeah, maybe," Dani concedes, toeing the line between dismissive and reserved.

He takes in the even measure or her tone and nods, diverting his attention back to the task at hand. The simple preparation of tea. It's hardly engrossing enough to distract from the persistent profiler's algorithms running in the back of his head, but if Dani wanted to tell him she would. He can at least do her the small courtesy of keeping his questions to himself.

When the tea is done he carries the mug back into her living room, where she accepts the mug and cradles it just below her chin, breathing in the steam still wafting from the top. After a second, she prompts good-naturedly, "You're not gonna ask again?"

He shrugs. "Trying not to," he says, perching awkwardly on the arm of a chair a short distance away. "Turns out people don't always like having their behavior casually psychoanalyzed all the time."

"What?" Her eyebrows raise in mock surprise. "They don't? No way."

"Ha, ha," Malcolm says flatly.

She shakes her head, but there's a faint hint of a smile when she turns towards the window. It seems for a moment that this is where she intends their conversation to end, and Malcolm's about to follow suit by getting up to leave when she clears her throat once more. Says, "I put everything into the job."

"I know," he says.

If he didn't know that about her already, her cupboards certainly would have told him.

"Actually, better than you think," she agrees thoughtfully.

That one throws him. He was half expecting her to tell him exactly the opposite; that he can't know, because he doesn't know her as well as he thinks he does. He certainly doesn't know her as well as he would like to.

"Really?"

Dani hums, taking a careful sip from her tea. It must prove cooled off enough, because the first is followed by a second, less tentative drink. Then, not unkindly, "Pretty sure you've got experience having to prove yourself over and over again to get anyone to trust you."

There's a hint of sympathy in the furrow of her brow. That, along with the sting of the truth in her statement, are things he can't much be bothered to think about at the moment. Not with the glaring implication that she, too, has experience battling for trust. Something beyond just the initial struggles she would've faced joining the department. (For a modern civilization, too many people still cling onto archaic stereotypes.)

His primary reaction isn't exactly disbelief, but his shock at the implication does circle that area. Because Dani's got to be the most dependable person at the 1-6.

In many ways, she's the toughest person Malcolm knows. She's almost preternaturally resolute, without sacrificing an ounce of compassion for it. She doesn't give up when a case seems impossible, she doesn't even slow down. Just puts in the work without complaint, satisfied that her efforts will be worth it.

Malcolm's list of people he can trust is almost so small as to be nanoscopic. Dani made that list with shocking celerity.

The surprise subsides quickly and he thinks he understands. It's taken monumental effort to win that reputation for herself--which, if you ask Malcolm, is merely further credit to just how resilient and steadfast Dani really is.

"Your overdose," he says in realization.

At first she just nods.

"It wasn't easy to come back from," she says with a small nod. Her fingernails drum absently against the ceramic of the mug, _clack, tap, clack._ With a shrug she adds, "In more ways than one. I always had Gil, and JT. But everyone else..."

"But you're still a good cop," Malcolm argues, momentarily blinded by his indignance on her behalf to the fact that he's preaching to the choir. "Addiction isn't a choice, it's a disease. You're not a criminal."

"And you're not a killer," she states pointedly. "The truth doesn't always change people's perceptions of us, Bright. You know that."

All too well. She's right about that.

She might be wrong about comparing their situations though. He hates to think about the people who are supposed to have her back, mistrusting and ostracizing her over something like this. At a time when she would've most needed their support. It's outrageous to think of Dani having to prove anything to those people at all.

And it's hardly comparable to people linking Malcolm to his father. Especially when it's still up in the air as to how much of a killer he really is.

He suppresses a shudder and draws his mind back to the issue at hand. Murmurs, "It's not exactly fair, is it?"

"We make do," she says, settling back against the cushions.

"So you're worried taking a sick day would set back people's perceptions, then?"

"Maybe, at first that was it," Dani says, a pensive frown written across her features. "I think eventually I just got used to it."

Malcolm nods in understanding. He knows that feeling. God, does he know it. Which is how he knows, "You wouldn't know what to do with yourself if you weren't working a case, right?"

The knowing look she sends across at him is confirmation enough. There's the tell-tale _clack, tap_ again of her nails against the mug. She declares with uncharacteristic uncertainty, "I don't have a lot, outside of the job."

"Yeah," Malcolm says. The knock at her front door just then is probably the soup being delivered. It's a semi-decent distraction, and perhaps the only reason he feels like he can safely add, "Well, you have me."

There's an infinitesimal shift in her expression. He rises from the armchair, flashing a moderately awkward smile and adding quickly, "And soup!"

He shuffles off to answer the door, probably over tips the driver going by the look she gives him, and returns to Dani's living room with the restaurant's delivery bag in hand. She's turning on her television when he gets back, but she sets the remote aside on the arm of the couch to accept the offering.

"Thank you."

"Yeah, of course," he says with a nod. "Do you need anything else?"

Dani side eyes him as she pulls the to-go cup out, setting the paper bag aside on the coffee table. Then, bordering amusement, "I think I've kept you away from the case long enough."

Not to say that he hasn't thought about the case, at least in the background, more than once since leaving the precinct. At the same time, he's more than well aware, "I can't expand on the profile until they manage to identify the victim anyway."

He's given Gil a preliminary profile based on the crime scene, the methods used and the presentation of the body. But he can really only work with the facts he has access to, and while he could be back at the precinct helping them dig up more facts to work with, he's uncharacteristically impassive to the idea.

"Plus," he says on reflection. "I think Gil's still mad at me for what I said about cars."

Dani, rather unconvincingly he might add, plays dumb.

"You mean the part about them being a 'catalyst for environmental degradation,'" she throws in some one-handed finger quotes as she pops the lid off of her to-go cup, "Or the part about them being--How did you put it? A superficial status symbol for insecure men."

Malcolm opens his mouth to defend himself, then aborts it in favor of looking down at the suddenly fascinating geometric pattern in her floor rug. He mutters somewhat indignantly, "I wasn't talking about _Gil's_ car..."

Just car culture in general. And it was relevant to the profile.

"You should add putting your foot in your mouth to your list of special skills," she remarks, with an untoward level of mirth. As she rolls her eyes, she pats the empty cushion at her side indulgently, saying, "Alright, you can hide out here for a bit. If you help me pick a movie."

He's certainly not going to get a better offer than that. He moves to sit down where she's indicated with a small nod.

"I don't really watch a lot of movies."

"Of course you don't," Dani says, picking the remote back up to open a streaming service. She gives him a sideways glance and asks, "Let me guess, you watch a lot of documentaries."

"I like learning new things," he says, with just a sliver of embarrassment.

"And it's very endearing," she tells him, somewhat dismissively, like this is a fact she's annoyed by. Then, after sipping quickly at her tea, "But it's my sick day, so we're watching a movie. You've seen _The Goonies,_ right?"

He frowns in thought, trying to recall an association with the title. Truth be told, he did most of his movie watching as a kid, and then forgot...most of being a kid. While he was in school he always preferred to read books, and these days he's too preoccupied with cases to even make time for the aforementioned documentaries he enjoys.

The only movie watching he does now is the occasional movie night with Ainsley, which has won him an extensive knowledge of horrors and thrillers, but little else.

When he shakes his head, Dani gives him a look that's almost offended. Like his having not seen the movie is a personal offense. One she intends to remedy straight away, as she types the title into the search bar, saying, "You're gonna like it."

"I trust your judgment," he answers, without a hint of irony.

"Smart man." She types about half of the title in before the right movie pops up in the suggestion bar below, sandwiched in between _Goosebumps_ and _Good Will Hunting._ She sets the remote aside on the coffee table and plucks out a fresh tissue before leaning back once more, saying casually, "My dad put this on whenever I was home sick from school. I guess it stuck."

For such a seemingly insignificant idiosyncrasy, Malcolm feels distinctly privileged to be trusted with it.

The ghost of a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth as he asks, "You watch _The Goonies_ every time you get sick?"

"Yes," Dani says. The 'duh' conveyed unspoken. Then, swatting lightly at his arm, "Now stop talking, you have to pay attention."

Malcolm acquiesces, shifting his focus to the ongoing police chase playing across the screen. They really just dive right in. He'll admit, it captures his curiosity.

Around twenty minutes into the movie, Malcolm's phone buzzes with a text alert from JT. It's more than likely an update on the case, but Dani's telling him a piece of trivia about the filming location of this one specific scene, and he sets his phone aside to listen better. The text will still be there when the movie is over.

They're about sixty into the movie when Dani stops answering his commentary. The reason for this becomes apparent when, about sixty-one minutes into the movie, her head drifts sideways until it finds his shoulder.

Malcolm stiffens instinctively. She is, he affirms with a quick glance downwards, fast asleep.

He doesn't think anyone's ever fallen asleep on his shoulder before, he's not totally sure what he's supposed to do in this scenario. He actually holds his breath for a full three and a half seconds before he realizes he won't wake her simply by breathing. Letting her guard down around him enough to fall asleep speaks to a degree of trust, especially from an individual as guarded as Dani.

Frankly, he's not used to being trusted. Is he supposed to wake her?

She seemed so invested in watching this movie, and he doubts his shoulder can be particularly comfortable. Bony as he is, he makes a poor excuse for a pillow. And is she stays there too long she may get a crick in the neck.

Still, it's been a long day. It feels almost cruel to disturb her rest.

It's possible he's overthinking this.

Dani breaths out a very faint snore, and he rules out the idea of waking her. There isn't anywhere better to be anyway. As his initial shock gives way to a small smile, he turns to look back towards the movie she wanted him to watch.

He relaxes gradually as he gets invested back in the plot of the film, becoming less concerned an action on his part is going to disturb her. It's easier to be sure when she reminds him with another occasional snore that she's out like a light.

She's still asleep when his phone goes off, and he scrambles to answer it before the ringer can bother her. He doesn't have time to check the caller I.D. before holding it to his ear and answering just above a whisper, "This is Bright."

"Bro, why're you whispering?" JT says, lowering his voice as well on an instinct.

"No reason," Malcolm says just as quietly. "I'm in the library. What's going on, did we get a lead?"

"Got an I.D. on the vic, we're about to go talk to the family."

"That's great."

"Yeah. Gil's gonna text you the address."

"And I will meet you there...probably," he says before hanging up. The aforementioned address text comes through fairly quickly, followed by a short background on what they found out about the victim.

Dani stirs just as he's setting the phone down on the arm of the couch, and he's at once relieved and just a little disappointed. At least he doesn't have to spend too long debating whether he's supposed to wake her up so he can follow the lead. As she sits back up, he says, "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"Didn't mean to fall asleep," Dani answers, passing a hand groggily down her face. She glances across at the television for a second before turning back to him, a sudden frown creasing her brow. She says, "Oh god, I wasn't snoring, was I?"

Malcolm chews his bottom lip in consideration, then shakes his head.

"Nope," he says indifferently. Then, feigning curiosity, "Do you normally?"

"No," she mumbles with a degree of indignance. He must not do as well at stifling his chuckle as he thinks, because she gives him a careless shove as she sits up straighter. "Alright, do you have to go? Because the movie's almost over."

His gaze flits from her back to the screen, then back to her. With a shrug, he says, "Gil and JT can catch me up when I get there. If I leave now I'll be wondering how they save the family home all day."

She gives him that look that means she's debating whether or not he's actually lying to her.

Granted he didn't provide his whole basis of reasoning, but wanting to sit through to the end of the movie isn't a deceit. For as much as they've learned about each other's troubles, it seems like a rare gift to get to experience something that makes her happy. It's an insight into who she is as a person that Malcolm, for once, is more grateful for as a friend than as a profiler. Which is a strange enough feeling all on it's own.

Plus he really will be wondering about the unanswered questions until he knows how it ends, he's invested now.

Dani either decides he's telling the truth or that it's not worth calling him out for the omissions. She smiles and concedes with a small nod, turning back to the television with a content murmur of, "Okay."

**Author's Note:**

> i've never seen the office but i saw the scene where pam falls asleep on jim's shoulder out of context and somehow that lead to a 4k brightwell for gratuitous falling-asleep-on-shoulder content, idk. i hope you guys enjoy!!


End file.
